


Bicycle Ride

by Moonstruckidiot



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Bikes, Chickens, Cuba, First Kiss, Fluff, Fools in Love, Humour, Leg shaving, M/M, Romance, a bit of angst, and a comment from hugh, inspired by flyingrottens art, no sex - sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-10
Updated: 2017-03-10
Packaged: 2018-10-02 07:28:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10212533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moonstruckidiot/pseuds/Moonstruckidiot
Summary: Will goes looking for a car and comes back with bikes. Hannibal is not amused but takes it as an opportunity to make a fantasy come true.Or Hannibal shaves Will's legs.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [flyingrotten](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=flyingrotten).



> Find her art here http://camilleflyingrotten.tumblr.com/
> 
> no beta - sorry for any mistakes

Relaxation has settled deep into the marrow of Hannibal Lecter’s bones.  The healing rays of the Cuban sun can claim some responsibility for the almost permanent smile on his once sombre face. Stretched out on one of two sun loungers set side by side on the small terrace of the home he shares with Will Graham, hat tilted ‘just so’ to block out the glare of the mid afternoon sun, he dozed. A local paper lay open on his lap but he didn’t get any further than the main headline before his eyes closed. If a certain hand ran through his hair he would most probably purr.

Will is the real reason for Hannibal’s contentment. Hannibal’s soul craves him more than the thrill of the hunt or the joy of creation. A time would eventually come when the Jackals will bring down another prey but for now the beasts sleep.

Hannibal in his repose has observed a growing agitation in Will. Cut off from everything he knew Will is adrift and in need of establishing some sense of stability. To start with his hands need to be occupied, not with blood but with purpose. At breakfast that morning it was agreed Will would find them transport, something do-up-able.

A clatter of loose metal alerted Hannibal to Will’s return, he sighed regretting not being more precise with his instructions. He scooted himself into a sitting position, picked up the paper and read for the first time in hours.

“I was expecting something with a roof,” he said, his eyes not leaving the printed word.

Will’s heart sank. He had known what Hannibal, what they, required. Something which would allow them to travel easily and discreetly out of the area. Something which would carry local produce, and the odd dead body, for the dinner table. Even so he had hoped the bikes would be given a chance.

Living in Cuba, a nation full to the brim with bikes, had reminded him of the sense of escape and adventure they had given his childhood.

“I thought it would be good to feel the breeze in our hair,” said Will.  

“That is what electric windows and sunroofs are for,” replied Hannibal still not casting even a curious glance at the bikes propped up on either side of Will.

Will’s thumb rubbed over the silver handlebars of a red bodied bike. It had had one previous owner, who from what Will could see, had taken good care of it. The seat was well sprung and upholstered, the gears changed smoothly and there was a basket on the front. Ideal, so Will thought, for carrying home the local fruit, veg and other produce Hannibal loved to spends hours selecting. It just required a new set of tyres and Will had bought those along with a pump and a puncture repair kit. The second of the two bikes he’d bought was brown or maybe purple it was hard to tell under the dust and the rust but he didn’t particularly care what he rode on.

Will stood still for a moment, words bitter and sarcastic flew to his lips but he swallowed them down. Mostly he had just wanted to share with Hannibal the part of him which had ran innocent and wild all those years ago. Maybe it was too much to ask for an elegant, serial killing cannibal to free wheel down hilly paths in the fading evening light. Will tried to picture it, it just seemed ridiculous.

He turned and headed towards a large outbuilding he had christened, ‘the shed.’ The bikes would be staying Will was sure of that, he would be taking trips out on them with or without company.

Regret twitched at the corner of Hannibal’s mouth. He didn’t enjoy watching Will slink off with disappointment weighing heavy on his shoulders. It wasn’t what Hannibal wanted from their relationship.  Sometimes though, where Will Graham was concerned, he just couldn’t help himself.

As Will walked away Hannibal caught a glimpse of well thatched legs, they made him pause for thought. _Wind in his hair indeed_ , he mused.

“Male cyclists often shave their legs,” he called after Will with as much of a casual air as he could muster.

A laugh escaped Will what other response was there to such an absurd statement. Then he turned round. “You’re serious,” of course Hannibal was serious. Will knew nothing came out of Hannibal’s mouth without some purpose no matter how obscure and unlikely it may seem.  

“I’m not planning to enter the tour de France I don’t need to be aerodynamic.”

“They say it can help the healing process after a crash and, to not put too fine a point on it, you are rather clumsy. Only last week...”

“It was hidden by the table.”

“You’d put it there yourself, “ Hannibal gave an faint sigh of exasperation. “I expect to be cleaning out gravel from many a wound.”

Will shrugged. Hannibal did have a point.

“I’d look like a girl.“ It was the first objection to spring to Will’s mind and even to him it sounded like a whinge.  

It drew Hannibal’s attention and Will felt an appraising eye run up and down his lower body.

“You have well turned legs,” Hannibal remarked. He didn’t need to look up any higher to know Will’s cheeks would be aglow with a pretty shade of pink as he added, “With good musculature, they are unmistakeably male.”

“And wound cleaning, that is all there is to it?”

“Of course, I only ever have your best interests at heart.”

Another laugh rumbled its way from Will’s chest, that was the funniest thing he’d heard in a while.

A thought flashed through Will’s mind, he cocked his head, “you can cycle can’t you?”

Hannibal chuckled, “I used to race when I was younger.”

Will eye’s raised skywards, _of course he did_. He departed to a trail of advice on the art of shaving, “exfoliation a day or two prior would be advisable, you’ll find...” Together with his bikes he headed off to the safety of the shed.

........

The next morning a small ceramic bowl filled with home made exfoliator sat on the side of Will’s bath. He resisted the urge to scoop up a dollop and run it through his fingers. He knew it would smell lovely, everything to do with Hannibal did it was part of the allure.  

He stepped into the bath and turned the shower mixer taps on. Not everyone in Cuba is lucky enough to have indoor plumbing, but Will and Hannibal are. Some days it's a bit noisy and others it's more of an April shower than a tropical storm but it gets the job done which is good enough for Will. He never spends long under the spray saving the hot water for Hannibal, who, rather surprisingly, doesn’t grumble about the less than state of the art facilities.  After a perfunctory wash he dried himself and closed the door leaving the bowl undisturbed.

Five minutes later he returned and stuck a finger in the scrub. It smelt of coffee and just a hint of orange. What would it hurt, Will asked himself, as he stepped back into the shower.

Later that morning Hannibal smiled knowingly to himself when there was no hot water.

Ten new razors and shaving foam were the next supplies to find their way onto the side of the bath. Will sighed, picked up the packet of razors and ripped it open. They were good quality razors and would do the job of de-thatching his legs more than adequately. He would never have contemplated shaving his legs if it were not for Hannibal’s prompting. If he did it, thought Will picking up a razor, he expected to find sketches of his hair free legs adorning the desk in the study, he made a mental note to check. As he turned on the shower Will decided Hannibal would, just this once, get his wish.

After ten minutes of hesitating Will looked at his legs. The best thing to do was to prop one up against the rim of the bath and apply the shave foam. Hannibal, Will remembered, had said something about starting at the ankle, it seemed as good a place as any. Leg bent, razor in hand he goaded himself to take the first slice. For what seemed like the one hundredth time he ran the razor under the water before placing it against his skin.  He took a deep breath in and let it out, gathered his bravery and then swore to the heavenly hosts as his foot slid forward nearly sending him head first out of the tub. He caught himself before any damage was done but he’d be damned if he was going to try that again any time soon.

....

With timing only the gods or Hannibal Lecter was capable of, there was a soft knock on the bathroom door. Will wrapped a white towel around his waist secured it tightly and opened the door.

“Would you like me to help,” asked Hannibal. Careful to not look too predatory he avoided looking Will directly in the eye.

Such an offer wasn’t unexpected. Will looked at the razor still in his hand and nodded, it made sense to accept.

“On one condition, you ride your bike into town with me tomorrow.”

As an after thought Will added, “no grumbling allowed.”

Hannibal met Will’s eyes briefly. “Agreed. Go sit on the edge of the bath, facing into the tub.”

Will’s breath caught to the sound of a zip and a belt being undone. His eyes flickered wide and he felt an intense need to change his mind. He breathed out slowly and rationalised, was he really expecting Hannibal to get into the tub with water and shaving foam fully clothed.  

The increase in tension in Will’s shoulders and the faint exhale which followed did not go unnoticed by Hannibal. Rather than unbutton his shirt further he did it up, he decided a little bit of water damage would be more tolerable than unnerving Will.

“Would you mind if I step into the bath,” asked Hannibal. He wanted Will to be aware of where he was and what he was doing, to feel in control of the situation.

“Go ahead, its fine,” replied Will with a smile. He did feel a bit awkward, sitting there in just a towel whilst Hannibal slipped by him. He tried not to look too closely when bare athletic thighs passed mere inches from his face.  

Hannibal turned the taps on and unhooked the shower head. Only a trickle of water came out.

He settled into a crouch across from Will, “It may take a few minutes to get enough water to begin.”

Will nodded. The sight before him was not dissimilar to an occasional fantasy he had, tousle haired Hannibal knelt before him in a state of undress. His cock twitched in anticipation of the skilful mouth he imagined Hannibal to have, after all he was a master of everything else so why not that.

“What would you like for lunch?”

“Err,” said Will returning his attention to the real Hannibal before him. He cleared his throat. Any brief arousal he might have felt disappeared as quickly as it appeared, although from the glint in Hannibal’s eyes Will’s three second fantasy might have been noticed.

“An omelette would be good.”

The trickle of water was becoming more of a warm stream, Hannibal ran his hand under it, it would soon be useable.  “Hmm, I can rustle up something with eggs,” he said.

“Sounds good.” Will was pretty sure whatever Hannibal rustled up it wouldn’t be a simple omelette.

The smile Hannibal gave in response was just like out of Will’s fantasy. Will melted just a little only to startle as water rolled down his leg and a hand slipped behind his calf.

“Your skin needs to be well soaked, it softens the hair and opens up the follicles.”

They hadn’t been this physically close in a long time not since wounds and bandages needed tending after the fall. His leg held with a gentleness most would never believe Hannibal the Cannibal was capable of Will made the decision to allow himself to relax. Having his legs shaved by another man was weird, but it was fine to be weird and they didn’t come much weirder than the two of them.

Hannibal made sure every part of Will’s right leg was thoroughly drenched and, forever a gentleman, he handed Will the shower head to do the inner and upper thigh.

White shave foam was lathered up. Now Will seemed more settled Hannibal ran, an almost, clinical eye over his legs, there were no cuts or bruises to take extra care with. A light tan covered Will’s torso but his legs remained white. Hannibal looked forward to revealing them in all their marble-esque glory. It was a fantasy he’d had, seeing them white and sculptural like a Greek statue. Whilst his imagination could easily peel away the hair nothing would compare with being able to see and hold them in real life.

Hannibal had to bite back a sigh as he smoothed foam down Will’s calf, “what do you think to chickens?” he asked.

“Live chickens, ones that lay eggs and cluck,” enquired Will. He wanted to make sure he fully understood what Hannibal was asking.

“Yes, live chickens that cluck.”

“Great, why?” asked Will, he couldn’t help feel this was some kind of trap.

The ankle was the first hair free stretch of skin, Hannibal sat back and admired it before looking Will in the face.

“A farmer not far from here has some he’d like to sell, would you be interested?”

Will’s eyes glowed like a child at Christmas, satisfied Hannibal returned to the business at hand.

Chickens meant responsibility and permanence, not permanence between the two of them, that was a given, but to Cuba. Will took a moment before he spoke, did it feel right he asked himself.

“Yeah, yeah, I’d like that.” Will glanced down at his leg and laughed. There was no going back, not now he was half shorn.

“Good, we can walk up together and collect them. Hopefully the farmer will let us borrow a truck to bring them back here,” said Hannibal with a wide toothy smile that crinkled his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” said Will shaking his head. “I’m such an idiot.” Now the car and Hannibal’s annoyance made sense, he’d wanted the chickens to be a surprise and Will had ruined it.

“On occasion,” agreed Hannibal with a wink. He had reached Will’s knee and now contemplated his thigh. Half of Will’s upper thigh was revealed by the towel and, covered in white foam, Hannibal found it tantalising. He imagined whipped cream. His tongue wanted to taste just a little of what lay beneath, feel the firmness of skin and the tang of salt.

The razor took its first stroke of Will’s thigh, Hannibal released a breath and settled back onto his haunches.

“You’ll need to build a coop for Beatrice and her companions,” he said as he pulled his eyes away and swallowed, he just needed a moment.

Will knew exactly where Hannibal’s hand and eye had been and where they were now contemplating. He was enjoying having Hannibal so close, the feel of Hannibal’s hand travelling up his leg, the look of devotion in his eyes as a new piece of skin was revealed.

But at the thought of Beatrice the chicken who won Hannibal’s heart he couldn’t help an amused grin. “Beatrice?” asked Will as he pulled the towel a little further up.

Hannibal handed Will the shower head to drench the newly uncovered area of thigh.

“Yes,” he said, his eyes unable to tear away from the pearls of water rolling down Will’s flesh.

A dollop of foam was placed in Will’s hand, with some effort Hannibal resisted the urge to lick his lips as it was smoothed on.

“There is one for whom the name seems perfectly suited,” said Hannibal. He cleared his throat then added, “you can name the rest.”

Time seemed to slow down as Hannibal shaved the uncovered skin. Mentally he distanced himself not wanting to ruin the unblemished surface by poor concentration. When he finished he put down the razor, the fourth he’d used on the one leg, and marvelled at the masterpiece before him.

“I think that’s far enough up don’t you,” he said.

“Yeah,” replied Will. It had taken all his, not inconsiderable, will power to stomp down the feelings of arousal as they fluttered hot in his belly, and there was still another leg to do.

..........................

Will liked the local town, he enjoyed meandering down the streets lined with bright garishly coloured houses. The white washed colonial style buildings were more to Hannibal’s taste. If both were asked though they would agree the best thing about the town was the lack of tourists.

They had separated earlier that morning when they reached town. Will went to enquire about any cars for sale and Hannibal headed to the market.

An hour and a half had passed by when Will returned to where he had left his bike, he sighed when he realised it was no longer there. In another world he would have felt angry and taken it as further evidence of why dogs and whiskey were better than people. Here he felt different and he allowed the theft to pass through him like water. It was an old bike which had cost him next to nothing, finding it stolen was an inconvenience but nothing more .

He sat down on a bench, closed his eyes and waited for Hannibal.

Shoes kicked off Will rubbed the heel of his foot down a silky calf. It felt good, he admitted, but not as good as Hannibal’s hand had when he’d smooth on moisturiser.  The pianist hands had touched, no it was more true to say caressed, every inch of shaven skin only stopping at the hem of the towel.  In the privacy of his own mind Will imagined those fingers sliding past the flimsy barrier, a shiver travelled the length of his spine.

The noise of a throat being cleared snapped Will out of his day dreaming. He opened his eyes and there was Hannibal and what a picture he was. Astride his bike wearing a waistcoat, a devilish twinkle in his eyes and a long stemmed rose between his teeth. As far as Will was concerned a more dashing figure could not be found. With a theatrical flourish Hannibal moved the rose to his hand and offered it to Will.

A blush bloomed on Will’s cheeks, he looked around no one was watching. He got up from the bench, accepted the rose and leaned in to kiss Hannibal’s cheek, instead he met lips.

The first time their lips met, it was soft, tender and brief. They parted quickly and looked at each other a little startled.

The next kiss was more confident. It was no fight for dominance more an exploration of how they fit. They enjoyed the slide of tongues, the taste and feel of the other. Fingers tangled in hair and searched out skin. They did not hurry. When they parted it was to inhale deeply and grin.

Hannibal patted his bike’s seat and without hesitation Will jumped into welcoming arms.

The third time they kissed it was with all passion of lovers reunited across time and space. Hunger consumed them and they want nothing more than to devour.

It took a little time for their bodies to  understand there was no one to tear them apart, then they slowed, delighted in each other and laughed.

True to the champion cyclist he was Hannibal managed to get the two of them to a comfortable grassy bank a mile or so out of town before they tumbled to the ground.

The end


End file.
